


Don't worry, it's not my blood!

by GonewithFantasy



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: (gentle) biting, (with men), Anal Fingering, Awkward Conversations, Blood, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Clothes Ripping, Feral Behavior, Feral Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Cares About Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Growling, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Licking, M/M, Misunderstandings, Violence, Virgin Jaskier | Dandelion, a few drops of blood (not because of the reason you might think), a whole lot of growling, applies only for chapter 4 & 5, cum & spit as lubricant, lots of fluff, pit-fight, sniffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27406699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GonewithFantasy/pseuds/GonewithFantasy
Summary: ...in which Geralt is afraid to share affection/pleasure with Jaskier because he fears his feral half might take over and hurt the bard. Jaskier tricks him into giving in. All too late Jaskier realizes that MAYBE he should have told the witcher about this being his first time with a man BEFORE he finds himself in bed, pressed down by a black-eyed, lust-addled creature growling at him. (Chapter 1-3)There is also a sequel to this (which will be uploaded as another chapter to this story, once the main-story is completed), it takes place years after the first one and is rather angsty (complete change of topic and atmosphere, I know xD). Geralt's feral half finds himself in a pit-fight in this one, Jaskier's forced to watch. (Chapter 4-5)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 45
Kudos: 276





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, this fic starts kinda in the middle of nowhere. *Shrugs *

Jaskier started kissing Geralt, who remained completely unresponsive. The bard pulled back with a frown and stuttered: "Umm, sorry, it's just...I, I thought you wanted that too, must've misread the signs, I'm...I'm so sorry." He turned bright red.  
Jaskier could have kicked himself for projecting his own feelings onto Geralt, for deluding himself into thinking the witcher might feel the same way about him. He turned around to escape the awkward situation.  
He'd leave town tomorrow morning in order to avoid Geralt for a few months. He really wasn't eager to stick around and feel the burning shame after what had just happened, what he had just done. Gods, he could only hope it wouldn't drive a permanent wedge between them.

But then he heard Geralt speak, his voice was so uncharacteristically soft that he just had to turn around to see the witcher's face.  
"Jaskier."  
There it was, at least it seemed like Geralt would let him down gently instead of screaming at him, asking him what the hell he'd been thinking. To be honest, Jaskier hadn't thought all that much, he had just acted on an impulse, had done what felt so right at that moment.

"I know", Jaskier started, "you just don't feel that way about me and it was so very stupid of me to assume anything else. I'll take off at sunrise and when we meet the next time, let's just pretend this never happened and go back to the way it was before, I'm totally okay with that. Are...we okay?" The last bit was almost a plea.  
"No..."  
"No?" Despite already knowing he had gone to far, the bard was incredulous, he really hadn' t expected this answer. As the realization of what Geralt's words meant sunk in, Jaskier's head started spinning and he felt nauseaus.

"No...", the witcher tried again but was instantly interruped by the bard.  
Jaskier's heart sunk and his tone was now definitely pleading. "Could you please say something other than no?"  
"Jaskier..."  
"Or my name?"  
"Gods, I would if you just let me talk.", the witcher finally managed to get out. "You didn't misread the signs, I did want that. We're okay. Just kiss me again."

Jaskier was really confused, the words seemed to good to be true. He wavered until he finally decided a second kiss probably couldn't make the situation any worse than it already was.  
Slowly, cautiously Jaskier met Geralt's lips again – only to earn the very same reaction as before, which was exactly none.  
Jaskier drew back, pain and anger mingling. "You know, you're a really bad actor. But I can't expect you to express feelings you just don't harbor. And I can't even hold a grudge against you for trying, it just shows how kind you are. Alas, that only makes it worse for me..."

"Jaskier, it's not like that. I do have feelings for you."  
"Listen, I don't know what you're trying to do here...surely you somehow intent to make this less painful for me but it's definitely not working, so please stop pretending." The bard was truly starting to wish that Geralt had just screamed at him to get out, instead of rebuilding his hope just to destroy it all over again. It was just cruel.

"Jaskier, the reason why I can't give you what you want, what you need, is not the one you might think...", the witcher explained reluctantly.  
"Just stop talking, alright? All I need is you to forget this awful day, just forget it ever happend, okay?" Jaskier was heading for the door but Geralt extended his hand to hold him back.  
"At least allow me to explain, would you?"  
Jaskier knew that eventually he'd grow curious about the reason anyway, so even if it possibly meant more hurt for him he nodded.

Geralt took a deep breath, clearly not keen on talking about the matter.  
"Look...you deserve to be treated kind and gently, you have a sensitive soul."  
Jaskier frowned and asked: "So what's the problem, you treat me exactly that way...most of the time."  
Geralt sighed and gritted out: "I'm talking about the way you need to be treated in...", for once the witcher hoped the bard might interrupt him but Jaskier had chosen exactly this moment to find he indeed possessed the skill of listening. So Geralt had not choice but to end the sentence with the one little word that would make that whole conversation become so much more awkward than it already was: "...bed."

Jaskier raised his eyebrows, chuckled, cocked his head and exclaimed: "What?!"  
Geralt hated portals but on this occasion he was really wishing for one to pop up and make him disappear.  
However, staying silent would only prolong the situation and so he started talking: "You know, during the trials witchers get exposed to an awful lot of mutagens that bring out the...more primal side in us. That combined with the increased strength and the dulled down emotional sensitivity can make for some pretty nasty outcome when we bed someone we desire, who's not as...durable. It could kill them."

Jaskier was struck silent for a few heartbeats, then he replied: "Alright, before I even waste my breath on that, tell me you're serious about it. Tell me, that's not something you just made up to let me down gently. Because if it is, there's no use for me to even put any of my thoughts into that."

Geralt glared at him. "Believe me, if I'd make something up, it certainly would be something less awkward."  
Jaskier sighed. "Alright, so assuming that you are serious...that is the biggest bullshit I've ever heard. You've been with Yennefer who's definitely more delicate than me, hell, you've been with other human women, prostitutes. None of them was ever accidentally hurt or killed by the oh-so-horrifying White Wolf. So what's the problem with me?"  
The bard was sure he'd outmaneuvered Geralt.

He was surprised as the witcher immediately answered: "Well, if I went too far, Yennefer could always throw a fireball at me or push me through a portal. My subconscious mind, that primal thing inside of me, knows that, so it behaves. Those prostitutes...well, there is no comparing my desire for them to the way I feel about you, the things I'd like to..." The witcher realized he'd already said more than he'd intended to let out and fell silent.

Jaskier's eyes had grown wide at the last sentence. He gulped as he felt a flutter of hope mixed with a hint of desire rise up in his stomach. Then he composed himself and suggested: "Well, maybe we could ask Yennefer if she could make me some kind of protective charm, something that allows me to throw my own little fireballs..."  
Geralt shot him an incredulous look and Jaskier snickered. "Relax, I just wanted to see the expression on your face. I know Yennefer hates my guts and wouldn't craft me such a thing in a million years. Besides, I really don't think I'd need something like that anyways."

To Jaskier the idea of Geralt accidentally killing him while being in a haze of pleasure was just laughable. Then he reconsidered and realized with a start that Geralt estimation of a risk in other areas was always quite accurate. For example, on a hunt he never kept Jaskier farther away from the fight than he really had to be. So what if the witcher wasn't actually overcautious here? But then, Jaskier thought of all the situations in which he'd seen Geralt's impressive self-control. And of the fact that he simply trusted the witcher with everything he was.

Jaskier felt the need to inquire: "Geralt, were you serious about the possibility of you killing me while...doing it? I mean, is there really some kind of dark instinct in you that wants to do more than just mate?" The bard realized how much that sounded like a tale told to scare young maidens.

"Umm, no, it's not like that. There's nothing dark in me, I'd rather call it...hungry." The witcher winced inwardly, this was definitely the kind of conversation no one should ever be forced to have.  
He looked at Jaskier, who was so soft and sweet and innocent, and he decided he owed him the best and most honest explanation he could give.

"Look", the Geralt began, "as a witcher I'm already less sensitive towards the emotional inner life of others. Are you familiar with the way arousal _– damn, why hadn't he fled the room again? -_ dulls down your sense of pain, of discomfort?"  
Jaskier cocked his head and answered: "Well yeah, it's great, it allows you to stay in positions your body would otherwise scream in protest against after a few seconds."  
Geralt nodded. "But it also makes you less sensitive towards what your partner is feeling. It lures you into just assuming they're fine too."

"If one party is feeling uncomfortable, they should just say so. I don't see where the problem lies.", Jaskier retorted.  
Geralt sighed again. "Jaskier, I'm just afraid in the frenzy of it all I might miss it if you gave me a sign of discomfort." "Oh, believe me, I'll make myself known if I don't like something." Jaskier winked. "The same way I do when I'm cold, hungry or just bored." He grinned.  
Geralt gulped and gritted his teeth. "I'm also afraid that I do catch the sign and will not be able to stop. Hell, I'm even more afraid of that. You are one of the very few humans that have never, not once smelled of of fear because of me. Imagining that changed...I could never forgive myself." The witcher cast his eyes down, unable to meet Jaskier's.

"That will never change, I do trust you with my life, always. I've seen your self-control and I've seen you, now trust me, we won't regret this."  
"Look, this isn't some kind of thing we can explore by trial and error, it's rather make-or-break. And I'm afraid I might break you."  
Jaskier rolled his eyes. "You won't, I'm much more durable than you think I am. If you like, I can scream 'stop' and bite you if I feel like it really gets too much."  
"Umm, rather not do the biting thing, that might just achieve the opposite", Geralt mumbled. He really hadn't thought he could feel even more ashamed during this conversation.

Jaskier's eyes widened for a second, then the corners of his mouth twisted upwards. "Alright, noted"  
The witcher continued: "But a certain word maybe isn't such a bad idea." At that, he realized that somewhere along the conversation this whole topic had become more than a theoretical concept. It scared him, but some part deeply buried within him had raised its head and was now straining its ears in interest. It was also that part that kept him talking. "What kind of word would you like? So that there are no misunderstandings."

Jaskier tilted his head in question. "Umm, I'll just tell you to stop? I mean, there's not a whole lot of room for interpretation in that and even in my haziest of states I can still tell 'go' from 'stop' and you can, too...hopefully." Jaskier was back to teasing Geralt again. "And if all else fails, I'll start telling you about the characteristics of dactylic pentameter, that should effectively kill the mood...on your side at least."

The bard winked.

Geralt smiled despite himself. Only Jaskier could use 'stop' and the explanation of dactylic pentameter as a safeword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always: Thank you for putting up with my English...  
> I hope you liked this chapter, let me now what you think! :) The next chapter of this story (not the pit-fight sequel) will be up tomorrow. :)


	2. Chapter 2

"So, is that why you remained so cold when I was kissing you?"

"Why else would it be? I was holding back with you.", the witcher stated, raising his eyebrows.

A question came to Jaskier's mind: "What would happen if you wouldn't?"

Geralt swallowed, the part that was buried deep inside him practically started to purr. "It would be...rough."

Jaskier bit his lip, then he said: "Please let me see this side of you. Look, you seem to want me, and I swear on my elvish lute that I absolutely ache for you...have been for years. Just trust me to trust you, I can take it." With the last sentence Jaskier had stepped in front of Geralt and gave him a challenging look.

The witcher was still worried. Jaskier was so sweet and vulnerable, he probably had no idea what he had to expect. Geralt gently tried to shift Jaskier out of his way but Jaskier didn't move, still daring Geralt to do _something_.

Thinking that there still might be a way to (more or less) gently deter Jaskier from his plan to make the witcher bed him, Geralt gave Jaskier a push that made him stumble into a nearby wall. Jaskier looked surprised, composed himself immediately and took a step towards the witcher again. Only to make contact with the wall again, this time harder.

Jaskier was realizing that this wasn't sexual, Geralt was in complete control. It was each of them trying to prove their point to the other.

Luckily they pretty much had the whole second floor of the inn to themselves, so none of the other guests would be disturbed by whatever it was that was going on between them.

Jaskier took another step towards Geralt once more, only to be shoved into the wall for the third time. Jaskier could feel anger stir up in his body as a response at being manhandled.

Jaskier darted forward and shoved Geralt in return. It wasn't the hardest he could push but he was pretty sure this was the hardest he had ever pushed another person. He'd never been involved into physical fights before and in an argument he had always used his words.

The bard realized that, however, he was truly having a physical fight with a witcher right now. Geralt wasn't willingly moving, but he wasn't tapping into his strength or any of his other witcher powers either, allowing Jaskier to actually make him move backwards.

"You know", Jaskier said in a voice not yet screaming but not far from it either, "pushing me into a wall just for show isn't gonna make me change my mind. _Another push._ Or suddenly make me run from the big bad witcher. _Jaskier pushes him again._ I just want you to be real with me, to let your guard down, _fourth push_ , just let ME decide, what I want _*push*_ and what I can handle!"

Jaskier had shoved Geralt all across the room and his next push would have had Geralt pinned up against the wall. But suddendly there was a blur and Jaskier felt himself being spun around and, judging by the loud noise that echoed across the room, he was thrown against the wall with quite some force.

Jaskier yelped, he knew that with the sound it made, there was no way this wouldn't hurt, badly. It took him a few seconds to realize that it didn't. At all. He looked around and found himself wrapped up safe and sound in Geralt's arms, the noise obviously had been caused by Geralts arms and left shoulder hitting the wall.

Geralt waited for Jaskier to notice he wasn't hurt and the second it had dawned on him, the witcher crashed their lips together. Fiercly, eagerly, and full of hunger.

A fire burned its way through Jaskier, he could feel it everywhere as he melted into their kisses.

In a matter of seconds he was impossibly hard, it felt like his body had stored all of his bottled up desire for the witcher to release it at this very moment.

Geralt pressed Jaskier up against the wall and Jaskier frantically pressed back. Not to escape, but in a desperate attempt to create more friction between a certain part of their bodies.

Jaskier could have finished right then and there and almost did, but suddenly a sound caught his attention. It started out low in the back of Geralt's throat, growing constantly louder, rumbling in his chest. The witcher was actually growling. It didn't sound like a human attempting to imitate an animal and it didn't sound like an animal either, at least none Jaskier knew of.

Jaskier noticed that Geralt had never appeared more nonhuman to him, not even after taking a certain witcher potion that turned his eyes black and made black veins appear all over his face.

The bard suddenly became fully aware that he indeed wasn't having sex with (or rather: helplessly rutting against) a human but a mutant, and that the sounds he was making weren't some kind of act but the primal part of him communicating. A part that had existed in the world long before there was language, culture or warm fires to huddle around. Jaskier instinctively felt that this part no longer existed in humans, fractions maybe, but not ever like this. Suddenly he understood why Geralt never seemed to be bothered by living in the wilderness for weeks, no matter the season of the year. That part of him that was now growling at Jaskier like it wanted to devour him (and maybe it did) was at home there.

Jaskier did also understand that his suggestions of simply saying 'stop' or babbling something about dactylic pentameter as a distraction must have appeared completely ridiculous to Geralt. Probably the witcher hadn't said anything about it because he didn't know how to explain to Jaskier how minuscule the concept of language would be in a situation like this.

But while the creature pinning him against the wall was alien in the aspect that Jaskier was human and the creature wasn't, it was all so familiar for the reason that he was Jaskier and this was Geralt.

Jaskier felt fascinated by all of the new impressions he took in, but in the back of this mind he had years and years of history with the witcher and he felt absolutely reassured that this other part of Geralt didn't consciously want to see him dead. He wasn't entirely sure about the accidental part yet, but if it actually happened, it would probably be quick and while Jaskier was completely filled with ecstasy. There were worse ways to die.

And even though Jaskier was aware of how useless language in general and safe words in particular were when interacting with such a primal part of Geralt, he felt like that part would still understand the general concept of yes and no, of Jaskier liking or disliking the situation, even though he didn't know what it would make of it.

Jaskier realized that he must have drifted off with all those thoughts running through his head. He noticed that Geralt was no longer kissing him but instead it seemed like he was sniffing his way from his neckline up to his ear. It gave Jaskier goosebumps all over.

Jaskier met Geralt's eyes. The amber part of them was barely visible, pupils blown wide. And out of those eyes stared a primal, ancient creature. It seemed to realize that Jaskier's mind had returned to the situation as it put its nose under Jaskier's chin and gave him a demanding nudge.

Jaskier understood instantly (maybe there was a trace of basic instinct left in him after all, allowing him to follow the clue) and trustingly he lifted up his chin to bare his throat. It earned him an appreciative growl and then he could feel Geralt's tongue licking a line along it.

When the creature pulled back, Jaskier met its eyes again. It wasn't like the familiar part of Geralt had completely vanished, this was not like a split personality, it were just two different aspects of the witcher forming a whole. Yet Jaskier couldn't resist but look into these dark eyes and say with a kind, yet slightly suggestive smile: „Hello there, nice to meet you. Let's have some fun.“

At that the growling grew louder again, it almost sounded warning and the creature's gaze reminded him of a predator waiting for his prey to flee, which would start the hunt.

"Run", a voice which was Geralt's, yet then again was not, said, almost like a confirmation.

A split second Jaskier wondered which part of Geralt had said that and what it was supposed to mean. Was it play or a real warning? Jaskier decided that he didn't care. If it was a real warning, he wouldn't get far anyways, so he could just as well pretend it was a game until he'd find out.

The creature fell completely silent – no predator ever growls during the chasing/attacking phase of a hunt – and took a few steps back to give him some space. Jaskier ran as fast as he could. The adrenaline pulsed through him and he was once again surprised at how fast his body could go from angry to seconds-away-from-climax to fascinated to playing a game of chase.

Jaskier was absolutely not planning to run around aimlessly, he'd only try to reach the bed, completely trusting that it was just a game.

The bard hit the bed with so much momentum that he might have hurt himself if Geralt's body hadn't just caught him a split second before the impact, pulling the bard with him, cushioning him.

Jaskier squeaked and giggled. The growl returned immediately and suddenly he felt himself being pressed against the mattress, lying flat on his stomach. And then he felt teeth on the back of his neck, holding him in place. It wasn't hurting but the light touch was like a promise that the creature could _make_ it hurt, if Jaskier didn't comply. He could feel the growl that was neither animal nor human vibrate against his neck. And just like that Jaskier was almost painfully aroused again, he had no idea how his body did it, there was just no building phase to it. It wasn't there at all and then it was.

At once, Jaskier realized that there might be a slight problem with the further events of the night. Even though he'd dreamt about sleeping with Geralt for years, his actions aside from his fantasies had been rather coy. He'd never bedded a man before, he hadn't even put a finger inside himself. He'd tried once, grown timid and had left it at that.

He had to admit that this was something he probably _– definitely –_ should have brought up to Geralt before it got to...well, this. Jaskier was a romantic, he hadn't really thought that much about the mechanics behind something like that. He'd just forgotten. To be fair, until this very day he couldn't even have hoped that his fantasies could turn into something much more real. Plus, Geralt hadn't asked about it. He'd probably just assumed.

Jaskier lay there, pressed down into the mattress, the creature's/Geralt's (very welcome) weight on him, not too heavy not too light. He cursed himself for just _forgetting_ about something like this. In hindsight, he couldn't see why he hadn't come to think of it earlier. Then he felt some more licking and sniffing against his neck and instantly remembered why.

Be it as it may, here he was, pressed down on the bed under some very feral and incredibly horny witcher. His options were quite scarce: Keep quiet and endure what would probably feel like rape and hurt like hell or come clean, hoping the outcome would be different from option number one.

But Jaskier simply couldn't muster the courage to speak up and so he just lay there, waiting for what was gonna happen next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised: the second chapter! The third and last one of THIS story will follow soon. Then the pit-fight sequel will be added. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Suddenly Jaskier was rolled around on his back like he was absolutely weightless. He felt tongue and teeth against his throat and it sent jolts of pleasure down his body. The only thing keeping him from climaxing was probably the fact that he knew what was about to happen after all of those nice touches.  
Then he felt his clothes ripping and the touch of large hands was all over him, hungrily travelling down his back towards his bottom. The clothes hadn't been dear to him, so he really didn't mind. If he hadn't been so distracted, he probably would have liked it.

At that, Jaskier realized what he had just thought. That he didn't mind his clothes getting ripped because they weren't dear to him. Well, his body was dear to him. _Very._ Abruptly he remembered how he'd reassured Geralt that he would make himself known if anything wasn't alright.

He felt a finger slide gently down between his cheeks, accompanied by a whole lot of hungry growling. That was it for Jaskier. Once again in a matter of seconds, his body decided to change its mind, and he went from waiting with interest to trembling with anxiety.

"Geralt, please stop, I have to tell you something! I...I've never done this with a man before and I'm incredibly afraid of doing it right now!", he managed to squeeze out. Then he prayed that his words would be heard and heeded by the creature or at least by that other part of Geralt.  
For the first time ever, Jaskier actually became aware of the fact that, if this feral part of Geralt truly decided to take advantage of him, he wouldn't be able to do the slightest thing about it.

The creature froze, tilted its head and fell completely silent. It looked even more alien doing that gesture and Jaskier had no idea how to interpret it.  
Was is surprised because it hadn't expected resistance? Was it fighting with Geralt's other half? Did it even get what Jaskier meant or did he have to be more insistant?  
Then suddenly, the creature's hands came off, its body shifted away from where it touched Jaskier's and it just stared at him. The expression on its face was a complete mystery to Jaskier.

"Umm...sorry?", the bard said contritely, not knowing what would happen next.

Jaskier swallowed hard as the creature moved again, bringing its head up to Jaskier's. He closed his eyes, not only because he was afraid of the witcher's reaction but also because he was feeling like he had let him down.  
Then he suddenly felt little nudges made by a nose all along his jawline. They were so very gentle and there was not a hint of growling coming from Geralt's feral half. Instead, it tenderly nuzzled Jaskier's neck. It finally started to tingle and Jaskier had to giggle.

Without thinking, Jaskier extended his hand and started ruffling Geralt's hair. He was instantly rewarded with a low pur and the creature lined up its body alongside Jaskier's. He could feel its need, its want pressing up against him, but it made no attempt to act on it whatsoever and instead just continued purring.

Jaskier was in awe. He shifted his weight a little and said: "Geralt, I know you can hear me in there. You are just the cutest, kindest, and most harmless being there is for me to be around!"  
The voice, that was half Geralt's, half not, answered: "Shut up!", and the purr mixed with the tiniest of growls - but only for a second.

Now that Jaskier was sure that his boundaries were going to be respected, he started to relax. He focused on the way Geralt's body was so perfectly pressed up against him, the familiar warmth that radiated from it and the witcher's smell. Jaskier wasn't sure if he could actually pick up the arousal in his scent or if he was just imagining things.

What he definitely didn't imagine though were the things the proximity of the witcher, still so obviously wanting him, did to his own desire. This time Jaskier could actually feel it slowly build inside him. He made a small sound of pleasure and started rocking against the witcher.

It wasn't something he consciously decided to do, if it had been, he probably would have thought it through at first. Had assessed how he wanted this to be like, what it was he wanted to do and - more importantly - what he wasn't ready for.  
But Jaskier was hazy with lust and, once again, just started to ignore anything else.

The bard could hear the growl rise up again and smiled. Before he could think about it and opt to choose his words more carefully, he started babbling: "That's it, come here and take me witcher, make me yours, devour me whole, you've been wanting this for so long, haven't you? ..."  
His voice was practically drowned out by errupting growls and somewhere beneath it Jaskier could almost see the more civilized part of Geralt stare at him like he had lost it marbles. Maybe he had.

Jaskier felt himself being flung around on his stomach again, teeth back on his neck, holding him down, with more force this time but not enough to make him feel pain.  
He was practically naked, his clothes had been reduced to nothing but shreds. Strangely, feeling Geralt's weight on top of his body made him feel less exposed. The bard felt completely secure.

He could feel the growling creature shift its hips, felt its pants come off and then there was just skin on skin, hard heat against soft heat. It caused Jaskier to make noises he'd never heard himself make before (or anyone else, for that matter). If he hadn't been this horny he would probably have been embarassed. It felt absolutely liberating, human sounds mixed with mutant ones, both loud and pure and honest.

Jaskier could sense heat coil low in his stomach, could feel the way all his nerve endings were starting to fire. His body was rhythmically pushed back and forth by the creature thrusting against his buttocks without invading or even touching his hole. Jaskier stopped moving on his own entirely, giving himself over to the witcher, letting his thrusts control his orgasm.  
He could feel the speed increase and didn't know if the witcher was getting close or if he did it just because he could sense Jaskier was. The bard whimpered and moaned his way through the climax and it was absolutely wonderful. It came in light waves that made him feel like he was levitating. Until that day he had never experienced an orgasm guided completely by another's motions without having to move himself. It felt so cushy it was addicting.

As soon as it was over, Jaskier could feel that his body was still aching for release and that it was just around the corner. *  
He was surprised as he had always thought that wasn't possible. But with the build-up from almost coming really hard and then stopping just a few seconds before release hit, for two times in a row, and with the climax of light relaxing waves he'd gotten before, it obviously was.

Jaskier's rational thinking stopped. Frantically he gripped the witcher's right hand, bent it so that only the index finger was extended. Without hesitation he took the extended finger into his mouth and coated it with his saliva. Then another idea came to his mind. He lifted up his hips (the dark-eyed creature got the hint and followed his motion) and ran the creature's finger through his still warm cum.

Still acting on impulse alone, Jaskier guided the finger down to press against his hole. "Inside me. Now.", it was a grunt, despite Jaskier's voice being high as it always was when it was filled with need.  
Even though Jaskier still felt afraid to put his own finger inside himself, he somehow trusted this other part of Geralt with it.

Jaskier felt a slight pressure down there and started to relax his muscels. And then the warm finger gently slid inside him, accompanied by the creature growling, shivering and biting down on his neck hard enough to leave a mark for a few hours (but not breaking skin). It was instantly followed by an apologetic lick, but Jaskier hadn't really registered what went on up there anyways, he was so involved with what was happening _down there_.

The sensation was foreign but much more smooth than he'd dared to hope for and it didn't cause any kind of pain. His second release was constantly building and his grip on the witcher's hand tightened to hold it in place as he rocked himself against the finger. He was hesitant at first, but then the witcher slightly bent his finger so that it pressed against Jaskier's prostate and it sent electric jolts through him.

The pleasure rising up inside him was so intense that Jaskier fell completely silent. His muscles convulsed, his toes curled and his pleasure turned into a liquid fire, but the climax still kept building. It was starting to border on pain and his muscles clenched harder than he'd ever thought possible. He silently started to beg his body for release, he felt like it might truly rip him in two if it would be dragged out any longer. And then it hit him like an explosion.

Jaskier screamed. It was nothing like the moaning sounds he'd made before. His screams were sharp and almost drowned out the now impossibly loud growl of Geralt's primal part.  
The combination of their noises sounded like Jaskier was being slaughtered by the witcher, like he was eaten up alive. Jaskier noticed it too, but he just couldn't help himself, couldn't stop or at least turn it down. He felt the primal creature Geralt had turned into thrust against him hard and fast, it gripped his hip and squeezed. Pre was dripping all over Jaskier's bottom.

Just as the grip was bordering on becoming too painful, it vanished and the hand gripped the sheet instead - the fabric ripped.  
The witcher's body went rigid and with a roar he climaxed, coating Jaskier in hot and sticky cum that kept coming in several hard pumps until it finally died down.

They both collapsed, gasping for air.  
A satisfied purr resounded and the witcher looked completely and utterly sated. Finally he pulled his finger out of Jaskier, who instantly curled up against the muscular body that could've had easily torn him apart but hadn't.

When Jaskier opened his eyes again, his gaze went down to where he had been finger-fucked by the witcher – and saw something dark on the mattress. At first he suspected his body had been a little too eager at expelling everything it had to give when he had climaxed for the second time, but then he saw the stain was bright red. He was shocked. It had all felt so smooth and Geralt's hand, the one that had fingered him, had remained so very gentle the whole time.  
He immediately reached down between his legs, but when his hand came back up, there was no blood on it. The stain wasn't that big but it had clearly been a few drops.  
Jaskier quickly examined the rest of his body, only to find he was completely fine.

He turned towards the purring creature beside him - and saw the small wound on its right wrist, not deep, already starting to heal, but clearly the source of the stain. With a start Jaskier realized that he must have gripped it so hard that his fingernails had broken the skin.

He blushed and stuttered: " _Oh!_ Oh Gods, I'm so sorry..." But the creature just purred louder and dug its nose affectionately into Jaskier's hair.

They both slowly drifted off to sleep and when they woke up, Jaskier could sense the feral part of Geralt had retreated to wherever it dwelled when the witcher's more familiar part was in control.  
Jaskier stretched and uttered: "That was...wow! You are absolutely amazing, every part of you."  
The witcher smiled and he almost looked shy.  
With a glance at his wrist, Jaskier added: "Well, it looks like, after all, I'm the one who needs to work on their self-control."  
Geralt shifted, so he could meet Jaskier's eyes and said firmly: "Don't you ever."  
Jaskier laughed.

In the morning, Geralt was the first to leave the room they had rented in order to tend to Roach. Jaskier was still busy packing up his belongings.  
When he finally made it down the stairs, he was practically glowing. The innkeeper, a woman in her forties, noticed him and her eyes went wide. She had heard the noises of last night (one would have to be deaf not to have heard them) and when the witcher had paid her a gracious tip muttering "sorry about the blood...and the ripped sheets", she had braced herself to find the bard's dead body in the room upstairs. Yet here he was, glowing, smiling and not even walking funny.

"What _are_ you?", the innkeeper blurted out.  
Jaskier was still caught up in his own world after last night's events, so he answered dreamily: "I'm a bard, what do I look like?" and patted his lute.  
"No, what species are you?", the woman clarified.  
Jaskier finally got what she hinting at, but he amused himself by shrugging and replying: "I'm a human." The woman's eyes grew even wider. Then he added: "Oh, and sorry about the blood. Don't worry, it's not mine. I will be more careful next time."

The innkeeper couldn't help but take a few cautious steps back from the bard, she looked absolutely horrified. Jaskier smiled his most innocent smile and rearranged the lute on his back. He gave the woman one last grin, then turned and left the inn, humming a song to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to imagine the song he's humming contains some lines of the song "The Horror and the Wild" by The Amazing Devil :D  
> Feel free to write a comment, I'm always happy about that :)
> 
> * To anyone who thinks that this isn't possible: Believe me, it is ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the sequel in which Geralt manages to maneuver himself into a pit-fight and...well, his feral half takes over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I absolutely didn't plan on writing a sequel to this story, yet here it is. Be warned: the genre kinda changed, it went from fluff&sexy-feral to...just-a-thrilling-story-feral(?). I don't know, see for yourselves. xD

It was only many years later when Jaskier would become painfully aware of the vast difference that lay between Geralt's lust-growling and the kind of growl that meant the witcher's more feral half was dead-serious. In hindsight, the bard wished he'd never been forced to find out.

Jaskier had once asked the witcher about why he never seemed to growl when fighting a monster that someone had hired him to kill. Although Geralt had never analized this kind of witcher behavior before, he instantly knew the answer: It just wasn't that part of him that was killing monsters for coin, using a fighting style that didn't require primal instinct but years and years of relentless training.

He told Jaskier that the instinct-driven part of him probably wouldn't even be inclined to wield a sword, at least not with skill. It made sense to Jaskier.

It had started out as a plain and solid contract at first: to find some peasant's daughter that had gone missing in the woods, probably lured away into some monster's den.

Yet soon, Geralt had followed her tracks only to find she had been abducted and was now kept prisoner by some mad king. Mad or not, a king's words held way more power than a witcher's, and so Geralt was simply about to go and tell the peasant of his daughter's unfortunate fate. The witcher didn't like the outcome but this had turned out to be a monster that just wasn't his to slay.

Before he and Jaskier could leave, however, they were grabbed by a few men of the king's guard and brought before the king to explain why they had been trespassing.

Geralt stated their reason's and that they had been about to leave as it had turned out there was no work for a witcher.

The king, a fat and unpleasant man, had rubbed his hands, replying: „Oooh, I might be able to do something about that, my dear witcher. You see, sitting in this castle day, after day, after day...it just gets dull with time. And, umm, nothing against your bard friend here, but after a certain time all songs just start to sound the same, don't they?“

Geralt didn't comment, waiting for the king's offer, while Jaskier tried his best not to look offended. He failed.

Licking his lips, the king continued: "You know, I heard great tales about the beauty of watching a witcher carry out his profession. Up close, you know? Now, unfortunately you witchers usually prefer to slay the beasts in some isolated swamp or thick forest, where not a single soul can be entertained by it..."

"Well, that's where they usually live...", Jaskier blurted out. Geralt gave him a slight nudge and Jaskier stopped talking.

"Your bard is right, but don't you worry", he rubbed his hands again like a little child expecting to get a present, "I have a beast for you right here, a real one, not something you might find...unsuitable, with your morals and all that. I'll pay you five times the coin that peasant would have given you and it's you, me and some other fine gentleman...and, well, the beast. What do you say, witcher?"

Geralt pretended to consider his offer. He didn't speak and instead, took a meaningful look around the room. "Alright, fine, and you shall have the child, too", the king folded. "Been growing tired of the little brat anyways, nothing but crying, begging, complaining that it hurts...so dull."

Jaskier suppressed a retch.

"Fine.", Geralt agreed.

Jaskier would have liked to intervene right then, but this was Geralt's business and he respected that.

"Marvellous!", the king exclaimed. "A fortnight from today, at sundown?"

The witcher nodded and they left.

"A pit fight? What in Melitele's name were you thinking, Geralt?", Jaskier exclaimed.

"I was thinking I could fulfill my contract with the peasant, after all – and gain six times as much coin as I was planning on, all while taking a savage beast from a madman."

"But...you have no idea, what you're gonna be up against in that pit", Jaskier stuttured.

"Just as I wouldn't have known what I'm up against in the woods", Geralt retorted, deliberately leaving out the fact that the woods would have given him a whole lot of more clues and probably some preparation time before he'd actually decided to attack the monster.

If Jaskier had caught him on that, he hadn't shown. Instead, he'd just shrugged.

So here they were, a fortnight later, at sundown.

They had been expected and were lead deep down into the castle. The king had assembled quite an audience but Geralt didn't care about that. _Kill the beast, take the coin, collect the girl and leave._

There was an actual arena, circular, filled with sand, about 50 feet in diameter and with stone walls so high and smooth no man or witcher could climb out of there.

Jaskier was kept on the stands while Geralt was led down a long staircase to the entrance of the arena. Just as he was about to enter, the king was beside him and said with a disapproving shake of his head: "Oh, no, no, no, not with your sword. That wouldn't be very entertaining now, would it? These people wanna see you fight the traditional way. With your hands...and that magic tricks you so cunningly hide up your sleeves."

Geralt thought about protesting, reminding the king that that wasn't part of the bargain. But he had to admit, technically, there had really been no word of his sword when they had made the deal. And, more importantly, the king really didn't look like he would take 'no' for an answer.

Geralt sighed, stripped off his sword and before he could walk through the door, he got pushed through it instead, the door instantly closing behind him. On the far side of the arena was a second door that was opened up the second the witcher had been pushed into the pit.

Out of it came...something. With a start, Geralt instantly realized that this wasn't some creature he recognized. The creature closing in on him wasn't natural. It must have been something the alchemists had cooked up in their laboratories, something new. The crowd cheered.

Someone was telling the audience something about Geralt and about the creature, but Geralt's concentration remained solely on the beast in front of him.

It seemed to have the body of a large – a really large – wolf, but instead of fur it had scales and the snout looked like a lizzard's. Its split tongue flickered out to scent the witcher. A second passed, then two. Then the beast jumped.

It was fast, so was the witcher. Geralt kept dodging the creature and made the sign of Heliotrop, putting up a barrier between him and the beast. The beast pressed against it, without even showing surprise or hesitation. A reduced sense of self-preservation was peculiar to creatures created not by nature but by the alchemists' magic. It could even be seen in witchers with their unnaturally low sense of fear.

Geralt couldn't hold up the sign forever, but that wasn't his plan anyway. He knew the creature would fight to its very last breath, unlike natural beasts that were led by fight-or-flight and once they were put into 'flight-mode', the fight was basically over.

Geralt abruptly lifted the sign which made the beast stumble forward and hiss, while the witcher jumped sideways at the same time. The next second, Geralt blasted the creature's right flank with Igni.

It was a good strike which should have sent the beast tumbling. It didn't. The creature's scales seemed fireproof. _Shit._

The witcher had suspected the creature to be blasted backwards by his sign, instead it darted forward and a row of small, razor-sharp teeth dug into his throat.

Jaskier was horrified. He didn't know why Geralt didn't have his sword with him, whether this twist had been consensual or if the king had just taken it from him by threating him.

When Geralt had hit the creature with Igni, Jaskier had started to hope. Seeing it was fireproof sent waves of shock through Jaskier. So did watching the witcher's throat being torn open. The throat Jaskier had kissed and snuggled up against so many times. Seeing Geralt like this was making the bard feel like someone had stabbed him right in the heart, like he was being ripped apart.

Blood started gushing out in waves.

Jaskier started screaming at the king: "Oh my God, _please,_ have mercy, you're killing him, give him his sword, you're _killing_ him! What is he supposed to do, he is without weapon and this thing is _fireproof_! I'm begging you..." Tears started filling his eyes, but he couldn't allow tears to cloud his sight right now.

Whether his screams were drowned out by the cheers of the rest of the crowd or the king just didn't care about what he had to say, it didn't matter, the result was the same. Jaskier tried to reach the king to physically force him to safe Geralt, but the guards held him back.

Instead, the bard made it to the first row of the stands by pushing himself to the crowd with sheer force.

Down in the arena, Geralt had blasted the creature with Aard and it went flying, taking tiny bits of Geralt's flesh with it. The fight proceeded, Geralt couldn't do anything more than dodge the creature with both physical speed and the signs of Aard and Heliotrop. But he was loosing blood and that was slowly but surely slowing him down and eating away at his concentration. He faintly heard Jaskier screaming, like it was from a place very far away.

The fight went on for another ten minutes that felt like hours.

Suddenly Jaskier could see something in Geralt change. It was the expression in his eyes. The amber was disappearing, they became darker. He instantly recognized it was Geralt's other, more feral nature taking over – and had no idea whether this was a good thing or a bad thing, but he suspected it wasn't good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope the change of atmosphere wasn't too unsettling, again: I did not plan on writing that sequel, it just forced itself upon me... ^^ The second half of this will be up tomorrow. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Jaskier gazed into those dark eyes, remembered how they usually looked at him when they were sharing their most intimate moments with each other and the hurt washing over him was just overwhelming.  
He would have jumped straight into that pit if he'd had any sort of hope it might have helped Geralt. He didn't have any.

Geralt's feral part suddenly stood completely still. Then it started to growl. The crowd fell silent in an instant. The tiny bits of basic instinct left in humans told each and every one of them how close they were to danger, to death. Almost in synch they all took a step back from the pit.

Without realizing, Jaskier had done so as well. He became fully aware he had never heard that kind of sound from Geralt before. It sounded like it was coming from the deepest bottom of his chest and echoed loudly in the arena.  
Even the beast stopped and stared, then it cautiously started to circle him. The eerie sound was perfectly even as if the witcher didn't need to breathe in between at all...it was the most terrifying thing Jaskier had ever heard.

It was at this very moment that he remembered the situation from many years ago, when he had heard Geralt growl at him for the very first time. How he hadn't been sure if Geralt's growl followed by the single word 'run' had been a real warning or merely a playful one, right before Geralt had fallen silent and started to chase him till they had both reached the bed.  
Seeing the difference between a real growl and a playful one right now made Jaskier become painfully aware of how very gentle and playful this feral half of Geralt had always been with him, right from the start. He pressed his hand against his mouth in order not to cry.

Then, without anything to indicate the reason for it, the growling stopped.  
It took Jaskier only a split-second to realize what would follow next. Before any of the other spectators had even noticed the change of atmosphere, Jaskier screamed, "Geralt, _no!_ "  
He remembered. Jaskier remembered the way Geralt's growling had stopped right before he had started to chase him. Started the attack.

_No creature ever growls during that phase of a hunt._

Geralt charged straight at the creature, they clashed and tumbled. Geralt was on top but that didn't mean anything, no one in the audience could see who was at whose throat. There was the exremely awful, wet sound of ripping flesh.  
Jaskier couldn't watch this, he just couldn't. He closed his eyes. His pulse hammered in his ears and even with closed eyes he could feel his vision blurring. But then a thought came to his mind. What if Geralt would want to look at him in the final moments of his life, lock eyes with him...and he would just stand there like this?  
Jaskier's eyes flung open.

He stared at the two bodies down on the ground of the arena. The audience, which still didn't dare to make a sound, was set up in a semicircle around it. Geralt and the beast were lying at the very back of the pit and their heads were tilted in such a way, it still couldn't be seen who had gotten a grip on whose throat.

Jaskier desperately tried to interpret their body language. The beast underneath Geralt was still moving, digging it's claws into the witcher's sides, ripping both clothes and flesh. Geralt, on the other hand, didn't move at all. But even from afar, it looked like every muscle in his body was tensed.  
Neither of them was making any sounds either, save for their labored breathing, the beast's claws grazing against the witcher's sides and the soft grinding of sand underneath them. The sand had started to turn red all around them. Was the beast's blood even red? Jaskier didn't know.

Suddenly the beast's movements increased. Jaskier could see Geralt's head jerk forward and then his body went completely rigid again.  
Whatever happened between them, it was long. And painful. Jaskier wanted to scream, tell Geralt he was with him, that he loved him...but he was just frozen.

The beast moved again and stilled, the scene repeated for maybe five or six times. Save for the first time, Geralt didn't jerk his head again. And then, none of them seemed to be moving anymore.

Jaskier was starting to fear that they might have gripped each other's throats and were now slowly dying together. The bard was torn between hoping and falling apart.

After two more agonizing minutes in which absolutely _nothing_ seemed to happen, the tension started to leave Geralt's body. No matter who had won - if there even was a winner - the fight was over.  
And finally, _finally_ the witcher slowly lifted up his head from the dead beast's throat. It looked like someone had emptied at least a bucket of blood on him. The only thing that wasn't red was his back.  
At first, not a single person was cheering, and when they finally did, it was shaky and thin.

The witcher stood up and lifted his gaze. His eyes were still dark. Jaskier felt a wave of relief so strong it nearly sweeped him off his feet. He started to wave in an attempt to draw Geralt's attention. The witcher's eyes didn't meet his, they just darted around to look everywhere, yet focused on nothing.  
That really worried Jaskier. Thinking of the blood that still had to be gushing from Geralt's wounds made Jaskier finally move again. It had probably been less than ten seconds since Geralt had lifted his head from the beast's dead body but it felt like a whole lot longer.

The bard found his voice again and screamed: "Get a healer, he will die! He won, so _please!_ " Jaskier looked at the faces of the king's guardsmen, they indeed had a healer standing next to them. Still, they looked apprehensive.  
It had always been one of the bard's talents to read other people (humans, at least) and he could instantly see that they were somehow sensing Geralt's feral half was still in charge. They were afraid to let him out like that or to send their healer in.

Jaskier wanted to scream out in frustration, darted down the stairs that led to the door of the arena and shouted at the guards to let him in.  
The guards shrugged. They quickly opened the heavy wooden door to let Jaskier enter, then immediately closed it behind him again.

Jaskier looked around and was hit by the smell of blood and the sight of really impressive walls surrounding them. They looked so much higher from down here.  
He looked at Geralt who was standing at the far side of the arena. The witcher had instantly turned around to face him. Jaskier couldn't tell how bad Geralt was off, but he estimated that, with all that blood loss, the witcher had to be at a point where he could barely keep himself upright.

The bard extended his arms and opened his hands in a no-weapon-in-hand-gesture. He took a few steps towards the witcher until he could get a good look of his eyes. Yep, still full-on feral part of Geralt right there. The witcher lowered his head while still staring intensely at Jaskier, without making the smallest sound.  
The bard took another step closer – and instantly realized his mistake. The witcher's silence hadn't meant he'd recognized Jaskier. It just meant he had skipped the warning phase marked by growling and had gone straight into attack mode. Jaskier hadn't even finished his thought when he saw Geralt charge at him with a huge leap. He obviously had also underestimated the state the witcher's body was in.

Jaskier landed on his back, the soft sand was helping at least a little to cushion his fall. Geralt was on top of him. Out of some weird instinct and without thinking at all, Jaskier lifted his chin to bare his throat as soon as his back had touched the ground – and heard Geralt's jaw close above him. His heart skipped a beat. Then he felt a warm, sticky liquid on his throat, slowly dribbling down on both sides of it, and he didn't like to think about what it was. He just lay there with closed eyes, trembling, waiting for it to be over.  
The crowd gasped.

Moments passed and Jaskier, probably light-headed from the blood loss, thought to himself that he'd always imagined getting one's throat ripped out would hurt more. Well, maybe this was just the magic of being in shock, like when people didn't instantly feel that they'd lost a limb.  
Then Jaskier felt a tongue licking a line along his neck. He was instantly reminded of the first time Geralt's feral half had done that. It still felt so good after all this time.

 _Wait. If he could feel that, did that mean...?_ Jaskier brought up a hand to his throat. His fingers ran through the sticky warmth and tentatively touched his skin. There didn't seem to be any missing chunks of flesh, so Jaskier used his sleeve to wipe his throat, then ran his finger over it again. There was not the slightest scratch on it.  
He could feel little nudges all along his jawline made by Geralt's nose. Suddenly, there was no arena, no audience, just Geralt – who was alive.  
The bard expelled a breath he didn't know he had been holding and all tension left his body.

There was a scream from the crowd. "That's it, he killed him, look!"  
Another one, made by one of the king's guardsmen, joined in, "Oh my God, get the arrows, shoot him, he just killed his own bard!"

At that, Jaskier scrambled out from under the witcher and to his feet as fast as he could. Sand, red and moist, trickled to the ground from his clothes. He saw the arrows, they were laced with a green liquid that could only be poison. His mind stopped working, as he used his back to push Geralt roughly against the nearest wall, shielding him with his body, ignoring the way his back was instantly getting soaked in sticky warmth.  
He prayed that this treatment wouldn't be too much for that primal part of Geralt and he wouldn't end up with his throat torn out after all. Thankfully, the witcher complied.

"Don't worry, it's not my blood, he didn't hurt me!" Jaskier exclaimed. He saw the arrows being lowered. Once he realized neither he nor Geralt were in immediate danger anymore, he became aware of the overwhelming smell of blood. He took one more breath and then instantly threw up on the sand. He used his hand to wipe his mouth, then looked at it only to find it covered with blood as well. Geralt's blood and the beast's. He doubled over to puke again.  
Even in his feral state, the witcher shot him a sympathetic look.

When Jaskier was finally done, he turned to Geralt, looked into his eyes deep and long, and spoke soothingly, "It's alright, you're safe. Please, come back to me."  
After a moment, Jaskier could see the change in Geralt's eyes as the more civilized part of him took over again. The bard nodded and smiled, whispering, "Tell them something that makes them trust you, so they get us out of here."

"Alright, show's over!" Geralt squeezed through gritted teeth. He was probably in great pain.  
Jaskier took over, forcing a convincing smile on his face as if he hadn't just puked his guts out. "We hope you enjoyed it, especially our little encore, we know it was nothing for the faint of heart – now drink, eat, be merry and get all home safely!"  
There was thunderous applause and the door opened to let both of them out of the arena. The healer stitched Geralt up and they went to bid farewell to the king.

The king was delighted and had put even more coin in the pouch than they had originally bargained for. "For the encore," he winked. Before Geralt could say - or do - anything, Jaskier grabbed the pouch and put it in one of his pockets (he was the only one of them left with intact pockets, after all) Coin doesn't stink, especially not when you almost died for it.

Then a young girl, maybe ten years old and shaking from fear (no wonder, they were both still drenched in blood from head to toe), was handed over to them. It was, as promised, the peasant's daughter.  
"How about...we do that again in the future?" the king suggested with a smile that was definitely not sane. "I'd have to...get another beast though first, so it might take some time..."  
Without looking at Geralt, Jaskier deliberately (mildly!) touched one of his wounds to keep him quiet and answered, "That is a really nice offer but, alas, we travel much, never stay in one place, so I fear we might not be around these lands much longer."  
The king seemed disappointed but not spiteful and they were free to leave the castle.

When they made it outside, all three of them hungrily sucked in the cool air of the night. Then they went to reunite the young girl with her father who was overjoyed to have her back (once he'd overcome the shock about the trio's appearance).

When they finally were alone, Jaskier exclaimed, "My dear witcher, I know choosing your contracts is your business and your business alone. But _please,_ promise me this one little thing: No more pit-fights?" "No more pit-fights!" Geralt heartily agreed.

Jaskier hugged him very tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading this (if you want to make me happy, leave a comment :)). 
> 
> This prequel was inspired by the pit-fighting scene in Sapkowski's books (it was a short story, unfortunately I can't remember its title right now and all of my energy went into writing this story, so I can't bring myself to look it up right now...).  
> The way Geralt killed the beast was inspired by the way lions kill their prey. They don't rip their prey's throat out, they just grip and wait. Geralt's head jerking forward and going still again was to indicate he was readjusting his grip on the beast's throat.  
> If you want to see a visual example of that - and are into wildlife documentaries, ONLY THEN - go to youtube and watch a video called "Lion kill unedited", it shows a lion killing a zebra in that grip-and-wait-style (but seriously, only watch if you're fine with such scenes!).


End file.
